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The Curse Of Company
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Any Day
Any day that the old town will call
Is the bid of my married adieu,
And I can't imagine a finer fold to the few
Sunny days, and a day of coming home to you,
The surreal intimacy of a secretive tune.
Bending over backwards,
And straining till my back hurts,
To settle the score of a hundred
Houses that are run down
And chasing to the ground
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I can swim
And so bathe the cold dose away
From the end of the day
And from the back of my knees
Bending over backwards
And straining till my back hurts
To settle the score of a hundred
Houses that are run down
And chasing to the ground
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